


Under Your Spell

by peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim)



Series: Bewitched [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Witch Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 21:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10144868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleakim/pseuds/peanutbutterjelly-pie
Summary: -It's not easy to live with a witch.(A story about burning kitchens, special anniversaries and the weirdest family ever!)-





	

It's not easy to live with a witch.

At least some people told Dean beforehand that it would be crazy to move in with his uniquely magical boyfriend who tends to turn things that usually are very much quiet and motionless into something alive and chatty.

That he'd lose the last bit of privacy and sanity along the way and probably end up in a special ward at the hospital, talking to himself.

And yeah, sure, their concerns weren't exactly unfounded **,** Dean's able to admit that. It may seem strange from an outsider's point of view to actually crave to live in a place that's more or less the pure definition of madness and Dean's honestly still not really used to the coffeemaker talking his ear off first thing in the morning or the candlesticks performing their weird and somewhat disturbing dance everytime they hear even the faint sound of a pop song.

It's insane. It's wild. Sometimes it's even freaking terrifying.

But Dean doesn't want it any other way.

And it's not like he didn't know beforehand what he would get himself into. Even before the official move he spent almost all his free time at Castiel's house since they got together almost a year ago. His own place kept being silent and boringly normal and Dean grew to hate it the few times he stayed there all on his own, so early on in their relationship Dean made it a habit to come over to Castiel's house right after work to enjoy the company of his boyfriend as well as his talking household and his unperturbed cat familiar Douglas.

And of course one thing led to another and more times than not Dean spent the night in Castiel's Swedish bed and left for work the next day, not even once stepping into his own house.

So it didn't take long for Castiel to give Dean a key, smiling all gently and happily while doing so, and Dean even had less reason to visit his own place apart from gathering some clothes and airing the rooms out once in a while.

So yes, right from the start Dean had every intention to share his future living space with the man he loved and the magic that made his life a thousand times more interesting. And when Castiel shyly offered a permanent arrangement about two months ago Dean enthusiastically agreed, accompanied by the orchids on the windowsill cooing like the two grown men in front of them were the cutest thing they ever witnessed and the armchair yelling, “It's about freaking time! Humans are seriously so unnecessarily complicated!”

Yeah, Dean honestly doesn't want it any other way.

  


* * * * *

  


Even when he walks into the kitchen one day and is greeted by a darting flame coming out of the pot on the oven, he doesn't feel even remotely reluctant because of his current situation.

He even finds himself smirking as he notices Castiel standing next to the counter, watching the fire with an awe that makes his face look like a child, all wonder and fascination.

“Hey, babe,” Dean says softly.

Castiel turns around and smiles warmly, looking altogether so freaking inviting that Dean can't keep himself from circling his arms around Castiel's waist and pull him closer. Every single morning the witch is a sight to behold, sleep mussed and rumpled and goddamned perfect, and Dean isn't certain he'll ever get used to it.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel says, pressing a soft kiss underneath Dean's ear.

“Care to explain why you're burning the kitchen down?” Dean asks, chuckling amused. He still keeps the fire in view, just to be safe, but since neither the overly dramatic mixer nor the talkative toaster seem to freak out Dean deems the situation secure enough to cuddle with his boyfriend for a while.

“There is no burning down happening here,” Castiel objects. “It's a potion for Mrs. Gallagher. Her hip is getting worse.”

Dean feels his freaking heart swell at the look of concern on his boyfriend's face. “You're way too nice, Cas,” he says anyway, though the fondness in his voice probably belies his words. Quite spectacularly.

It's endearing how Castiel always makes time to help people in need with his special skills. Just last week he spent forty-eight hours to brew a potion for a baby with colic, so fucking determined to make the whole thing work that Dean actually had to force him to go to bed at some point because Castiel totally ignored his own body signals.

He's a freaking angel and no one can convince Dean otherwise.

“There is no such thing as 'too nice',” Castiel chides. “I just want to have this ready before going on the field trip tomorrow.”

The corners of Dean's mouth droop immediately at the reminder.

He really doesn't want to think about missing Castiel for four whole days because the stupid school he's working for decided that the students need to see something else than the four walls of their classroom, so he nuzzles Castiel's neck and inhales deeply.

For a few minutes they stay like that, in each other's arms while the flame slowly decreases next to them, and Dean wonders if he could ever be happier than right now.

It doesn't seem very likely.

“Do you really have to go?” Dean asks, probably for the hundredth time since Castiel told him about the plans. And he sure as hell knows that he sounds like a petulant teenager and a clingy boyfriend at the same time, but he can't help himself. Four days seem like a fucking _eternity_.

No Castiel first thing in the morning. No messy hair. No stunningly blue eyes.

No fires in the kitchen and no one to argue with the sound system about the importance of climate change.

For Dean that sounds like boring four days.

Castiel's finger trail over the sensitive skin of Dean's neck. “We've been over this before, love,” he whispers, knowing fair well that Dean can't resist such cutesy pet names without blushing. “It's an important experience for the children and New York isn't really that far away …”

Dean huffs. “Yeah, yeah, I know. And the kid's parents probably don't make such a fuss as me, right?”

Castiel laughs, but doesn't contradict.

“It will be over in no time, you'll see,” he promises. “And in the meanwhile you can do anything you usually don't with me around.”

Dean frowns. “Like what? Running around naked?” He snorts. “That _way_ more fun with you around, Cas.”

It's always delightful to witness Castiel flush confronted with even the slightest innuendo. “I actually thought more about listening to your music on full blast or watching movies with inaccurate facts about the supernatural.”

Dean arches an eyebrow. “Hey, you love _'Buffy'_ too, just admit it!”

“It's still highly inaccurate,” Castiel retorts. “So when I'm gone you can watch it in peace without me sitting next to you and ranting about exploding vampires.”

Dean contemplates this offer for a bit. Granted, some of his favorite movies and TV shows have been interrupted more than once by Castiel's ongoing commentary about humanity's knowledge gap concerning the supernatural and it'd definitely be kinda nice to watch and enjoy them without someone prattling away for a change.

But still …

“That's not worth not seeing you for four days,” Dean counters, pulling the corners of his mouth downwards.

Castiel cups Dean's cheek, his expression so soft and loving it would make anyone's throat tightening, before he leans in and presses a long kiss onto Dean's lips. They almost immediately lose themselves in each other, reveling in their touches, skin on skin, and Dean knows without a doubt that he will miss this like crazy.

  


* * * * *

  


They make out like horny teenagers probably longer than socially acceptable and right before Dean is about to heave Castiel onto the kitchen counter and take things further, the familiar voice of Douglas makes them both startle.

“Hey, guys, _why the fuck_ is the kitchen burning down??”

  


* * * * *

  


In the end it's just a small fire, no casualties, and Dean can't help feeling a bit smug that they'd been so invested with each other that they totally missed the raging fire right next to them.

Granted, Douglas is not happy about it and neither is the fire extinguisher they had to wake from his slumber in order to put out the flames.

But hell, it's seriously worth it watching Castiel blush like a kid caught with his hands in the cookie jar, yet wearing that adorable little smile at the same time, as if he's somehow proud about it.

Yeah, Dean honestly doubts that he could ever be happier than right now.

  


* * * * *

  


Dean is very eager to make the last day before the field trip as amazing as possible.

And sure, maybe it seems a bit like overkill because in the end it will be just four days and he'll most likely be quite preoccupied with his job anyway, designing new car parts and finishing an important project that's due by the end of the week, but the thought of returning to an empty house – or, well, a house without Castiel in it, at least, since that place is _never_ empty – is depressing as hell and Dean can't bear to even think about it for too long.

So for the rest of the day he takes up all of Castiel's attention and doesn't waste his time with feeling guilty about it, especially because the witch seems to be utterly delighted by all the extra attention.

They share their breakfast like one of these cutesy couples who feed each other and giggle constantly while simultaneously spending so much time with kissing and nuzzling and touching that their pancakes get cold and both the oven and the microwave refuse to reheat them out of spite, grumbling surly and calling them “so gross they wish they could grow some legs and bolt as fast as possible”.

Also the fridge obviously feels the urge to vocalize his displeasure by “vomiting” some of the milk onto the floor as a visual image and ordering them to go before he would call for the lawn mower to chase them out of the house.

And Dean feels grumpy about this for exactly twelve seconds, already on the verge of starting an argument with the whole fucking kitchen, but when Castiel links their fingers and suggests a move to the bedroom, his smile so shy it makes Dean's insides clench, he immediately agrees with a wide grin and starts to drag Castiel towards the direction before his boyfriend is even able to take the last gulp of his coffee.

And eventually – after a lot of bumping into stuff, shoving each other at walls and doors, pressing their bodies flush together and exchanging kisses so deep and frantic even the painting of the 19th century dude in the hallway, who always tell the dirtiest jokes, can't help his blush – they reach their destination.

And they both decide concordantly to not leave their bedroom again for the rest of the day.

  


* * * * *

  


Dean keeps himself from making some sort of emotional scene the next morning.

Instead he packs some lunch, kisses him goodbye all soft and unhurried and wishes him a nice trip. Like a fully functioning adult.

And then the torture starts.

Admittedly, the first day isn't so bad, mainly because there is so much to do at work that he barely has time to miss Castiel that much. Sure, of course he _notices_ , especially when Castiel calls him during his break to tell him about their flight and the hotel they will be staying for the remainder of the time, sounding so endearingly excited, or when he lies in bed that night, the place right next to him so frustratingly empty and cold. But he tells himself over and over that he's a big boy and perfectly able to manage a few days by himself.

And it's seriously not like he's alone by any chance.

Douglas uses Castiel's absence as an opportunity to occupy Castiel's side of the bed, plastering his small body all over the sheets, and Dean doesn't have the energy to call him out on it. Hell, it's even kinda nice to have someone to share it with, even if that someone is little and furry and generally an annoying piece of shit. Douglas even finds some nice words about Dean's taste in mattresses in the depths of his black, ugly soul and that's honestly an occasion Dean will mark in his calendar.

In the meantime, the coffeemaker is eager to try new creations, experimenting like a junkie under the influence of some very hard drugs, transforming every new cup into a exciting adventure. Sadly most of the time it's a non-consumable disaster and Dean wonders whether Castiel barred these kinds of coffee nightmares before at some point in the past with a strong hand.

Also the toaster decides to fall back into some sort of pubescent phase and refuses to give Dean anything else but burned bread. Black and the farthest thing from edible. Every single time. Like a cat which is pissed that its owner left it by itself and shits onto the floor at every opportunity to show its displeasure.

Even the armchair is crankier than usual, probably missing Castiel, but being way too cool to admit that. Instead he focuses on finding the most creative insults for Dean, supported by several other family members who quickly seem to declare it into some kind of sport. And Dean contemplates being offended by it, but some of the defamations are surprisingly genius and he can't help feeling like a proud dad.

Yes, his life is quite insane.

Living in a house full of furniture that has more life than a goddamned flea circus, with so many different personalities and quirks that it's sometimes hard to keep track.

But one thing they all have in common: They miss Castiel like crazy.

And indeed, that's without any doubt the worst torture.

  


* * * * *

  


“So, when is Cas coming back?”

Sam leans back on the couch, taking a sip of the beer Dean pressed into his hand a few minutes ago, and looks as comfortable as they can get. From the very first time he had been absolutely fascinated with Castiel's skills and considered his place with the talking furniture and paw-licking cats as the most awesome thing that ever happened to him. Every time he comes over he finds something new to geek over, his big eyes gleaming raptly.

Right now he's staring at the wall clock which decided to screw time and switch back and forwards, while laughing like a maniac serial killer.

Quite disconcerting, but not the weirdest thing that happened today.

Because the vacuum cleaner, that tried to use the shower just an hour ago, claiming that it felt “filthy and dusty”, and nearly fried his electrical inner life in the process, had _definitely_ been stranger.

“Cas is coming back tomorrow evening,” Dean says, sighing. He can't wait to have his boyfriend back in his arms.

He's been so much surlier than usual and became a menace for the people around him in no time at all. He can't sleep without Castiel by his side, the house is getting madder every single day and the lack of any decent coffee or toast is nagging at his nerves.

Yes, it's about freaking time for Castiel to come back!

From Dean's point of view he shouldn't have left in the first place.

“I wanted to pick him up from the airport,” he continues, “but he insisted on taking a taxi because parking is apparently a bitch there.”

Sam nods in understanding. “And? Do you have anything planned?”

Dean arches an eyebrow. “Planned?”

“Yeah. I dunno, a surprise or something.”

Dean smirks. “You mean, like greeting him at the door – naked?”

Sam rolls his eyes exasperatedly. “No, jerk! I was thinking of something _romantic_.” He fold his gigantic legs underneath his body. “I mean, your one year anniversary is coming right up, isn't it?”

Dean smiles softly. He can't really believe it's been a year since Castiel's magic was acting up like crazy, pushing them together, resulting in them kissing for the very first time.

“Yeah, our anniversary is tomorrow actually,” Dean admits, suddenly feeling a bit shy about it. He's normally not the guy who cares about dates and that stuff, so it means a lot that he can remember their anniversary without much trouble.

In the meantime, Sam started to grin widely. “That's really perfect timing! Did you two have anything in mind?”

Dean shrugs. “We haven't exactly talked about it. Especially with the field trip and everything.”

Yeah, Dean thought about it. A lot actually. But since Castiel never brought it up he couldn't make himself to do so either. In the end it isn't what matters anyway.

“Then you should seriously surprise him, “Sam suggests, seemingly quite excited now. “Take him out to a nice place or something.”

Dean instantly shakes his head. “You think Cas is up for that after spending the hours before with some teenagers in a plane? I honestly doubt that.”

Sam tilts his head. “Yeah, I guess you're right,” he confesses. “Then perhaps a nice foot massage or …”

Dean finds himself suddenly with a lap-full of Douglas, startling him so much he nearly drops his beer onto the couch (and probably wouldn't have heard the end of it by the armchair who still hadn't forgiven him for spilling some fluids on him once a long time ago).

The familiar, however, doesn't look impressed in the slightest while placing his butt onto Dean's thighs and using his claws way more than Dean would have liked.

“Maybe you should do the exact lame stuff you did when you two idiots confessed your undying love for each other the first time,” Douglas says. “Castiel seemed to like it.”

“We didn't confess –” Dean starts, but instantly stops himself when he remembers that, yeah, there had been words like 'love' been involved back then. So he instead decides to mull Douglas' suggestion over in his head and can't help nodding in agreement. “It's actually not a bad idea.”

It hadn't been much, just Dean making his special burgers and them watching _“Raiders of the Lost Ark”_ together, but it had been one of the best nights of Dean's life. And it's true, they don't need grand gestures or whatever, their lives are exciting enough as they are, so a nice meal and an awesome movie are probably the right remedy for surviving a field trip with a bunch of pubescent juveniles.

“I'm here to serve,” Douglas says, grinning like the chesire cat. “And you may be a freaking pain in my ass, but Castiel is happier with you around, so I'm able to condone your presence.”

Dean grins. He thinks that might be the nicest thing the cat ever said to him.

“I love you too, Dougie!”

  


* * * * *

  


Well, Douglas doesn't like nicknames.

And Dean totally forgot about the claws near his crotch.

 _Damn_!

  


* * * * *

  


Castiel arrives at home about an hour later than expected due to traffic and Dean tries his best – and fails miserably – not to curse each and every deity he can think of.

But as soon as Castiel steps over the threshold and spreads his mouth into a beaming smile, asking happily, "You're making burgers?" after noticing the distinctive smell, Dean totally forgets to be mad and finds himself in his boyfriend's arms just a split second later. Castiel chuckles amused at Dean's enthusiasm and gladly complies when the Winchester leans in and connects their lips.

Dean's heart jumps, feeling the familiar and yet still so exciting touch, and all the tension of the last days drains away as if it never existed.

Castiel is _seriously_ magic!

“I missed you,” Dean whispers, their lips only a breath apart.

Castiel's expression softens as he rubs his thumb over Dean's cheekbone. “I missed you too,” he says. “So much.”

Dean surges forward once more and soon seconds and minutes pass without them moving from their spot. They keep kissing and caressing and touching, only focused on each other. The apocalypse could have happened around them and they wouldn't have cared in the slightest.

However, eventually Castiel pulls back a bit. “The burgers?”

“Don't worry, they won't burn,” Dean promises. “The pan said it would hop off the fire before that would happen.” And only in an household like theirs such a sentence actually makes sense and doesn't sounds like utter madness. “Come on, the rest of our weird little family missed you too.”

Dean grabs Castiel's bag and pulls him towards the living room where the witch is greeted by a chorus of “Welcome back”'s and “Did you bring us anything?”'s. The TV shows every reunion scene Hollywood ever invented in high speed, obviously very eager to show his affection this way, while the coat rack sneaks up from behind and takes Castiel's trench coat, stating, “I missed that ratty piece of cloth,” in a thick Russian accent.

Castiel looks like the happiest guy alive, reveling in the huge attention, and Dean can't help pressing a kiss onto his temple before walking into the adjacent kitchen and preparing their dinner. His movement are purely automatic as he stacks their burgers and simultaneously praises the pan for looking out for their food so diligently, making the little thing preen so much Dean can almost see its proud grin although it's got no freaking face to begin with.

Shit, his life is very weird.

“We're watching _'Indiana Jones'_?” Castiel suddenly asks, holding the DVD, which Dean laid out beforehand, into the air.

Dean nods, but immediately adds, “I mean, if you wanna, of course.”

“I like this movie.” Castiel sounds a bit distracted now, probably confused by the familiarity of the situation. His face is doing some very complicated twitches, apparently indicating that he's busy connecting the dots, and his eyes switch back and forth between the food and the DVD in his hands.

And Dean's able to see the exact moment the witch gets it.

“It's like our first night together, right?” Castiel realizes, his beautiful eyes glinting in a way that's clearly supernatural. “After we ...” He makes a vague motion with his hand, blushing all of sudden, and Dean can't help his grin.

“You mean, after we picked upthat your magic was playing matchmaker and we ended up making out the whole night like teenagers?” Dean smirks, enjoying the quite vivid memory. “I've gotta be honest, Cas, I don't't remember much of the movie from that evening.”

Castiel laughs, his cheeks still adorably tinged. “Me neither,” he agrees. “So I'm looking forward to seeing it again.”

Instantly Dean sidles up to Castiel while he's preoccupied with studying the DVD case and breaths rights into his ear, “I can't promise you will see much of that movie this time either. I mean, I _really_ missed you.”

Castiel's whole body shudders at these words, obviously not at all put off by them.

And it sounds quite tempting, skipping dinner and everything else and dragging Castiel to their bedroom to have his wicked way with him, but he swore himself to be romantic for a change. So instead of delving into a hot and deep kiss that would have definitely led to something more, his lips lightly graze Castiel's cheek as he whispers, “C'mon, let's eat.”

Castiel, however, is still staring at the DVD. “You did this because of our anniversary, right?”

“Yeah, I mean ...” Dean shrugs and tries for nonchalant. “We didn't really talk about it, with you being so busy with the field trip and all. And that's totally okay, I get it,” he hastily adds when he sees Castiel's expression change into something guilty. “It's not like I'm so crazy about dates and anniversaries either. There are much more important things.”

“But ...”

“Look, Cas, I'd have done something nice for you one way or another,” Dean clarifies. “You spent four days in New York, that stupid city that never sleeps, with a pack of loud children and I can imagine that being super stressful. So I thought you would appreciate a quiet evening at home.” He bites his bottom lip. “Sammy and Douglas helped with some suggestions, by the way.”

“ _I_ sure did,” the cat grumbles from the couch.

Castiel casts him a grateful look before fixing his eyes back to Dean. “You are so sweet.”

“It's really nothing –”

“So thoughtful.”

“Cas –”

“And I lied to you.”

Dean freezes and stares at his boyfriend for a moment, not sure if he heard these words correctly.

“Um ... what?” he asks, bewildered.

Castiel lowers his head, looking guilty as hell all of a sudden. “There was no field trip.”

Dean has seriously no idea what to do with that information. He finds himself stepping back a bit, making sure to have a proper view on Castiel's face, and demands to know, “What are you talking about?”

Castiel is most likely the most honest guy Dean ever met and the Winchester actually thought that he was incapable of telling even a teeny-weeny lie without revealing himself promptly. Hell, the last time he made an attempt-- at Sam's birthday party when he took a bite of the cake and tried to assure everyone within hearing range that it was rather delicious -- he stammered and flushed so hard no one believed him even for a second.

And Dean fell a little bit more in love with his awkward weirdo.

But now ... Dean doesn't know what to say.

“There was no field trip?” Douglas chimes in, sounding as surprised as Dean, and Dean can't help feeling somehow better because of this. At least he's not the only one who had no clue.

Castiel shakes his head. “No,” he confesses. “I considered telling you the truth, or at least a variation of it, but it would have raised too many questions. So I made up the field trip story.”

The _lie_.

“But ... why?” Douglas asks, obviously verging on anger territory. “Where the hell have you been the last four days?”

A very good question.

“I'd been in New York, just like I said,” Castiel emphasizes. “I just wasn't truthful about the _reason_.”

And yeah, thinking about it now, Castiel was eager to gush over the city, the sights and the people, never shutting up once, but as soon as Dean tried to get some information about the kids, that (allegedly) had accompanied Castiel on the trip, the witch just mumbled a few words and quickly changed the subject. Dean didn't exactly notice back then, way too happy to have at least some sort of contact with Castiel beyond a few short text messages, so he didn't even once think about questioning it.

There had been no reason for him to be suspicious.

Well, at least he thought so.

“Then what did you do in New York?” Dean asks.

Castiel meets his eyes, apparently not intimidated by Dean's tone. “I met the leaders of my coven,” he explains.

And yeah … Dean didn't expect that.

Castiel doesn't talk very often about his coven, mainly because it isn't such a huge part of his life. Or in any witch's life really. Coven used to be big and powerful, similar to the Mob, one of the greatest forces in the supernatural world … But nowadays they're mostly just old relicts. A bunch of witches with a casual connection who meet up a couple of times a year to swap their experiences and stories before going back to their ordinary lives. And granted, there are still some ancient rituals which they're valuing quite highly and are still fundamental pieces of their culture and history, but it's nothing like it had been in the past.

So yes, Castiel might have vanished for a day to meet some members of his coven now and then, however, never once did he feel the urge to lie about it.

“I needed to speak with them,” Castiel continues after noticing that Dean isn't happy with the meager explanation. “Rather urgently, actually.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “And that took _four days_?”

Castiel shakes his head immediately. “It actually took more like ten minutes,” he corrects. “But there are living a lot of members of my coven in New York and it would have been rather rude of me not to show my respect and make some visits. So I decided that four days would be a adequate time frame.”

Dean lifts a brow. “And the school just let you take some days off?”

“When I told them about my plans, yes,” Castiel says. “They are very serious about honoring supernatural traditions.”

Dean feels a headache coming his way. That's not the way he expected this evening to go.

“Okay, just – just tell me what the fuck was so important that you had to speak with your big bosses in New York?” Dean demands.

Castiel steps closer again and though Dean wants to keep some distance between them, all confused and irritated, his traitorous body didn't get the memo. He finds himself with Castiel stroking his lower arm and enjoying it way too much despite the current situation.

“It's a very old tradition,” Castiel declares. “Technically outdated nowadays, but I still wanted to do everything right, so nobody would be able to complain afterwards. And that's why I went to our leaders and asked for permission.”

Dean doesn't feel particularly smarter now, but he notices Douglas snapping to attention immediately.

“ _Oh_ ,” the cat says, eyes wide, as realization seemingly hits him.

“ _OH_!” the rest of the household gasps in unison.

“Oh _shit_!” the armchair groans.

And Dean just blinks.

Apparently he's missing something majorly.

In the meantime, Castiel interlaced their fingers, smiling so softly that Dean seriously doubts he would be capable of staying mad for longer, even if Castiel would drop their conversation just like that, leaving Dean utterly clueless.

“I am _so sorry_ for lying to you,” Castiel states, sounding absolutely sincere. “It felt so horrible, you have no idea. But I couldn't tell you the truth. You would have asked questions, as you have every right to do, and I wouldn't have known what to say. Furthermore, my stupid familiar,” he shoots the cat a dark look, “would have figured it out eventually and you know what a blabbermouth he is. He wouldn't have been able to keep silent.”

“ _Hey_!” Douglas complains.

“Or the mixer would have figured it out,” Castiel goes on. “Or the hose. Or whoever. _Nobody_ in this house can keep a secret!”

“ _Hey_!” the rest of their little family yells unhappily.

Castiel chooses to ignore them. “I couldn't risk them telling you. It felt so awful lying to you, but it would have been worse if you learned about it beforehand. It's supposed to be a surprise after all.”

Dean starts to squirm impatiently. “Dammit, Cas, just tell me already!” he urges. “What is up with your traditions and your leaders?”

Castiel leans closer, their faces merely inches apart, and whispers, “Since the beginning of time it is tradition among witches to ask the leaders of their coven for permission before marrying a human.”

For Dean it feels like time itself suddenly stopped.

He can't do anything else but stare.

And stare.

And keep staring.

“ _Marry_?” he eventually croaks, his voice so unlike normal that he'd been embarrassed if he wouldn't have been so busy being shocked.

Castiel's smile only grows, apparently pleased with Dean's shell-shock reaction. “I actually intended to wait for a more private moment to tell you about it,” he confesses, shooting some pointed glares at his vicinity. “But I have to admit that I didn't think it through. I should have guessed that you would like to talk about the field trip and that I wouldn't be able to lie to you anymore and blurt it out right into your face. And usually I would have prepared everything perfectly and picked the right moment, _especially_ with lesser audience, but I was so nervous and excited to ask our leaders and then on my way back from the airport I stopped at your father's place and then I totally forgot to make some plans –”

“ _Wait_ , you went to see _my dad_?!” Dean interrupts, his jaw slack. “But … why??”

Castiel squints his eyes and looks endearingly puzzled all of a sudden. “Is it not a human tradition to ask the father of your beloved for permission?”

Dean doesn't know whether he wants to laugh or cry.

“What … what did he say?” Because Dean has honestly no idea how John might have reacted to that. His dad has always been a bit reserved around Castiel, obviously not exactly sure what to make of the man his son chose to date.

“He said, _'Son, you may be the weirdest guy I've ever met'_ ,” Castiel narrates, imitating John's voice disturbingly accurate, “ _'but even a blind man can see that Dean is head-over-heels crazy about you and that's all that matters to me.'_ ”

Wow.

That's a lot to take in.

Dean lets his gaze rover over the room, suddenly noticing that _freaking everyone_ is staring at them, one way or another. Douglas seems as though he's not certain if he wants to puke or celebrate, the orchids are sighing dreamingly, the TV switched over to showing Hollywood's greatest proposal scenes, the armchair keeps grouching underneath his breath like the end of the world is upon them and the vacuum cleaner uses the opportunity to sneak into the direction of the shower again.

 _Goddammit all to hell_!

Dean's life seriously is completely crazy!

And he still doesn't want it any other way.

Suddenly he feels Castiel pushing something small and cold onto the palm of his hand and his heart grows several sizes when he sees the simple, yet so beautiful and meaningful silver ring.

“I love you, Dean,” Castiel says, his voice heavy. “I was fascinated by you the very first time you came over, a freshly baked pie in your hands and the most stunning smile on your lips. From this day on I fell quicker and harder than I ever thought possible and the moment I realized that my feelings were reciprocated is still one of the best in my life! I can't imagine my existence without you.”

And then the sonofabitch honestly does _the move_ , dropping to one knee, and Dean's breath catches somewhere in his throat.

“Will you marry me, Dean?”

Castiel's voice breaks at the end and that's what finally jerks Dean awake. He joins Castiel on the floor, whispers, “Hell, yes!” before pressing their lips together in a deep and sensual kiss.

All his nerve endings are sizzling and cracking, making the weight of the ring in his hand even more prominent, and it's without any doubt the best feeling in the world.

He never felt so whole before.

And he can't help smiling into the kiss when he hears the armchair groan, “Oh God, the next days will be unbearably sappy!” and the toaster correct him, “No, mate, the next _decades_ will be unbearably sappy!”

Yeah, Dean guesses they will be.

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> It's so much fun to write this series :D
> 
> And I hope you enjoyed it a little bit as well!


End file.
